


There May Be Wolves

by sarenraesbesthope



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: AU, But Frank never became the punisher, Gen, He's still Daredevil, Maria's not dead!, Punk Band Au, There's a quick mention of Matt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-08-26 08:24:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16678039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarenraesbesthope/pseuds/sarenraesbesthope
Summary: Punk Band AU where Frank is at a bar and a mysterious woman sits a few stools down from him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thanks so much for stopping by. This is my first attempt of writing anything Frank Castle/Karen Page/Daredevil/Punisher. The song that gave me the inspiration for this piece is "Blood in the Cut" by K. Flay. Give it a listen it's really good. It kept spiraling through my head as a very Karen song for her to sing. Sorry it's a little rough, I wrote it quickly and with abandon. I hope you enjoy!

Frank knocked back the last bit of his second beer, waving at the bartender for another. His face screwed up at the band playing whatever cacophonous disaster they decided to call music. The drums overpowered every other instrument up there. Whatever you could hear of the guitar was scratchy and screeching and the bass was nonexistent. From what he could see, the singer was going to town but none of it made it past the other parts.

His attention was caught when they stopped, and the house music came back in with a roar. The new group of people helping them tear down made him lean back against the wood of the bar, interested. He had nowhere else to be – no wife to go home to thanks to the divorce, no one waiting up for him worrying at home. So, he found himself at this strange little bar that was shaped like a T, the stage for the band at the end of basically a long hallway lined with a dark wood divider between the crowd and the employees.

One girl was dressed to cover every part of her body. Black motorcycle boots matched the leather jacket and her hair. A shock of red draped around her neck that if Frank squinted, he could figure was a scarf. She hauled a bass drum with one arm and the floor tom in the other. She didn’t seem to have any problems with lifting some of the heavier equipment on and off the stage, waving away help when it got too close.

Another flipped long blonde hair over her shoulder as she pulled pedals and a guitar up on stage and began to tune. She was dressed in a much more relaxed manner – jeans and a black zip up with some sensible sneakers. The question of what kind of band was coming up flitted through the back of his mind before he turned to take another pull of his beer. His attention roved over the crowd chatting just over the music with their drinks and appetizers in hand.

Glancing off to his right, he saw a woman with corn silk hair and the palest skin. Unlike most of the people in the bar, she seemed to be nursing a water with an intensity. Her mouth moved as her hand tapped. His eyes traced the lines of her furrowed brows and corners of her lips. Shaking himself out of that he sternly told himself to stop staring. He could see her out of his peripheral – the difference between how she dressed and all the black leather and pins of the crowd. The soft blue of her button down and light wash jeans seemed out of place. The dim light softly illuminated her, as if she was glowing from the inside out. Frank forced himself to turn back to the stage just as the band finished setting up.

Another woman had joined the brunette and blonde, the side of her head shaved. She laughed at something the drummer said before turning back to tune her bass. Suspiciously, there was a mic stand and space in the center of the stage. It left Frank room to examine the snarling wolf painted on the bass drum. The paint looked fresh and dripping as he looked at the lightly reddened teeth.

In this small amount of time, he had lost track of the woman-out-of-place. Just as he turned to search the crowd, the lights dimmed, and the house music faded. The bassist and guitarist faced the wall behind the stage and the darker skinned woman began to strum a loop and a voice appeared somewhere to his left, closer to the door. It spooked the whole crowd, the hush falling over them almost supernatural.

As if she had materialized, the woman he had been watching pushed her hair back away from her face and lifted a mic to begin singing, the words raw and ripped from her voice. As her hand passed her cheek, Frank saw a bruise and cut on her cheekbone and the fierceness in her eyes.

 

 _The boy I love has another girl_  
_He’s might be fucking her right now_  
_I don’t have an apartment_  
_Thought if I was smart I’d make it far_  
_But I’m still at the start._

  
  
As the bass continued and the drummer added in some cymbals, the singer began to move slowly, her hair falling to where it had started. She didn’t seem to notice. Her gait was deliberate, calculated, and precise. She looked to one side as she started the second verse.

 

 _Guess I’m contagious it’d be safest if you ran_  
_Fuck, that’s what they all just end up doing in the end_  
_Take my car and paint it black_  
_Take my arm, break it in half_  
_Say something, do it soon_  
_It’s too quiet in this room_

 

Her eyes landed on him and Frank knew his expression was awed. The corner of her mouth quirked up as she caught on. Rolling her shoulder, she pressed through the crowd. Each person she passed seemed to back up to give her space, almost afraid to break the spell she’d created. Her voice quieted for the next lines, growing louder.

 

  _I need noise_  
_I need the buzz of a sub_  
_Need the crack of a whip_  
_Need some blood in the cut_

 

As she repeated herself, the band grew with her. The guitarist and bassist swayed but did not move from their vigil of the back wall. The singer pushed her hair back again and Frank caught bruising on her knuckles on both hands. She turned to the girl closest to her and wrapped an arm around the neck of the unsuspecting victim as the song began another verse.

 

 _Met back up with the boy I love_  
_Cried on the streets of San Francisco_  
_I don’t have an agenda_  
_All I do is pretend to be ok so my friends_  
_Can’t see my heart in the blender_

 

She nodded at the girl before releasing her to shrink back against her friends, a dopey grin on her face.

 

 _Lately, I’ve been killing all my time_  
_Reading through your messages my favorite way to die_  
_Take my head and kick it in_  
_Break some bread for all my sins_  
_Say a word, do it soon_  
_It’s too quiet in this room_

 

She had reached the stage and the guitarist reached a hand out to help hoist her onto the painted plywood. Frank hadn’t even noticed that they had turned to face the crowd, too entranced by the singer to pay any sort of attention. That rattled him – he knew where every exit was in this place, where each employee was, and where each table was located. How had he not noticed? He didn’t have time to mull the thought over because she was still singing like a siren.

 

As she stepped into the spotlight, the dark shadows of bruises wound their way across her cheek, her jaw, under her shirt and over her knuckles. And as if she hadn’t short circuited his brain enough, Frank watched her unbutton the shirt she was wearing to reveal a tight tank top with the same snarling wolf emblazoned upon it.

 

 _I need noise_  
_I need the buzz of sub_  
_Need the crack of a whip_  
_Need some blood in the cut_

 

As she said the words, the crowd began to move as one mass. Some voices reached back to her with the lyrics, and those who didn’t know them shouted their approval of her stripping a layer off. She hooked her mic into the stand, gripping it with both hands as if it was her life line. Looking through her eyelashes, her mouth grinned around the words. Frank could feel the drum in his chest like a heartbeat.

 

He took a moment to focus his attention on the rest of the band as they joined their singer. Each one looked like a Valkyrie – each in their own element of war. The drummer had a look of fierce concentration, her teeth bared in a feral grin. The guitarist had also shed her outer layer to show off a matching tank top to the singer. Her hair hung in front of her face as she swayed to the beat of the bassist who was sitting on the edge of the stage, her legs crossed just above her combat boots as if this was the most natural thing. His eyes made their way back to the singer who was tilting her head in time with the music like some eerie angel. The next moment, the drummer slashed across her kit and the singer’s voice raised to a yell.

 

 _I need noise_  
_I need the buzz of a sub_  
_Need the crack of a whip_  
_Need some blood in the cut_  
_I need noise_  
_I need the buzz of a sub_  
_Need the crack of a whip_  
_Need some blood in the cut_  
_I need blood in the cut_  
_I need blood in the cut_

 

At this, the crowd went wild with dancing and jumping and yelling. One last push of her hair out of her face, the singer’s eyes glinted hard as the whole band went quiet. A moment went by, her chest heaving from the effort of the song. Another and the crowd shuffled, uncomfortable. A Cheshire grin spread across her face as her eyes connected with Frank’s a second before she spoke.

 

“Good evening New York City! My name is Karen and this is There May Be Wolves! Stick around, we have a great set for you to rock you until it's tomorrow!”

 

He vowed to talk to this woman before she left for the night.


	2. Luke's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank and Karen meet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I was convinced to write a second chapter by a few friends who wanted to see some more so here we are! Again, hastily written and not quite edited to polish but I quite like it. If you wanted to listen to the cover I was while writing this chapter, you can copy this link. Definitely give her some love because that voice is beautiful. I think I may have switched some events around from Season 2 but it worked better for the story this way.
> 
> Thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoy!

Different day, same shit. That was what ran through Karen’s mind as she shifted her guitar case from one shoulder to the other. She left late from work, the train was running late, and she knew that their gig started 10 minutes before she was likely to get there. Jess was going to be _pissed_. She didn’t even have time to change from her peasant top and jeans she wore to work that day. Karen could hear the drummer saying something about it throwing off the look of the band.

Apologies falling from her lips, Karen attempted to ground herself into the space. Graffiti everywhere; grime, sweat and whatever other bodily fluids speckled the walls and floor. She made her way to the bar to grab a glass of water, her eyes scanning the crowd to see what sort of energy they’d give her. She saw Foggy across the bar near where Claire was starting to tune her bass. She raised a hand in acknowledgement before returning to her assessment.

This bar was different from the last. Instead of a T-shape, this one was boxier. More open, more people, easier to bounce the sound off the walls for everyone to hear. Just as she was turning back, Karen could feel eyes on her. Shifting slightly, she noticed a man from the last show. Angular features, dark eyes, a stiff posture as he flagged a bartender down. No time to really study him though because Trish and Jess were giving her the signal to be ready.

* * *

 

 

The beginning of the set went off without a hitch. Walking through the crowd was always risky but it helped Karen connect with her audience. And it was fucking fun. The dropped mouths and hushed voices got her giddy and gave her a type of electricity that helped her through the night. She nodded to her band mates as they filed off the stage; Claire needed a new string for her bass, Trish needed to switch instruments and Jess needed a drink – badly. They always took a break right about a third of the way through their show, then another later. Karen always loved this time when it was just her, a mic, a stool, her guitar and the people in front of her.

“I hope you don’t mind that it’s just you and me now guys.” A few people whooped as she pulled her instrument out. Slipping a capo onto the fretboard, she grinned out into the sea. “I want to slow it down for a few songs, see where the night takes us.” Karen let a loose laugh out to hide her nerves about performing this cover. Taking a moment to strum a few cords and tune, she took a breath to steady herself. 

* * *

 

 

Frank couldn’t believe his eyes. He hadn’t had a chance to talk to the band after. They mysteriously never reappeared after they all left the stage. The lead singer – _Karen_ – looked different than last time. The bruises had faded, and she was dressed like a folk singer. The peasant top had slipped off one shoulder to expose more skin as she tuned her guitar. His eyes traced the long lines of her, her head bent over the fretboard.

A single spotlight illuminated her. It gave an ethereal glow to her pale skin, different from the last time he saw them play. This one painted her softer. He could see the muscles in her neck work as she spoke into the mic softly. It was like she was speaking to every single person individually.

As she looked up, he noticed a glaze in her eyes and a furrow to her brow. If he knew the singer better, he’d have said she had an air of worry, but it was different. More war-torn and exposed – like an ungrounded wire. Frank watched her hands begin to pick the melody from the strings and every thought flew out of his head as she began to sing. 

* * *

 

 

_I was cheated by you and I think you know when  
So I made up my mind, this must come to an end_

 

Karen couldn’t disguise the sadness in her voice as she began. Her eyes flitted to the corner where Foggy had been, relieved to see that he had more than likely gone to relax in the green room with the rest of her band mates. Good, he didn’t need to see how wrecked she was from Matt’s confession. 

A vigilante.

And he could sense things more than any blind man could. He could hear heartbeats and tell where things were. He lied to her. Repeatedly. About almost everything. And she was so _angry_. He had reeled her in, let her think he was a normal person, considering all the things about him that weren’t normal.

 

 _Look at me now, will I ever learn?_  
_I don’t know how, but I suddenly lose control_  
_There’s a fire within my soul_

 

She leaned into the mic slightly, her eyes closing to concentrate on the frets raising from the board to meet her fingers. Karen shook her head to clear it for the next piece of the song.

 

 _Just one look and I can hear a bell ring_  
_One more look and I forget everything_  
_Oh, oh_

 _Mamma Mia, here I go again_  
_My, my how can I resist you_  
_Mamma Mia, does it show again?_  
_My, my just how much I missed you?_

 

She had gone to Matt’s apartment to discuss the loaded information he had dropped on her head when she found out another thing. Karen had decided she didn’t care if he went out all night and beat people up. Someone had to try to control Hell’s Kitchen. Matt had one more surprise for her. She took a second to move hair out of her face.

 

 _Yes, I’ve been brokenhearted_  
_Blue since the day we parted_  
_Why, why did I ever let you go_  
_Mamma Mia, now I really know_  
_My, my, I should have never let you go_

 

Another woman in his bed. Karen wasn’t stupid. She knew something else was going on with Matt. He had been distracted and distant. But this, this was just icing on the cake. It solidified in her mind exactly where she stood in Matt’s life. That she didn’t stand anywhere near the top of the list pierced through her heart.

 

 _I was angry and sad when I knew we were through_  
_I can’t count all the times that I cried over you_  
  
_Look at me now, will I ever learn?_  
_I don’t know how, but I suddenly lose control_  
_There’s a fire within my soul_  
_Just one look and I can hear a bell ring_  
_One more look and I forget everything_  
_Oh, oh_

 

Karen took a breath to look out over the crowd. Her eyes caught on the repeat person in the crowd. He tipped his beer towards her and she tilted her head. Was it in solidarity? Possibly just acknowledgement that they both recognized each other from the last gig? Just a standard good job nod to her skills? Her fingers stuttered, and she had to flex her hands before continuing. Keeping eye contact, she kept singing. As if the rest of the room didn’t matter, only making this one man feel along with her. Karen couldn’t see more than the glint of his eyes and the dark smudge he created against the back bar, but it felt like she knew exactly how he was feeling as she sang.

 

 _Mamma Mia, here I go again_  
_My, my how can I resist you_  
_Mamma Mia, does it show again?_  
_My, my just how much I missed you?_

 

She kept eye contact with him. Some sort of connection went taut between them and it was as if she was pouring her heart out more than she’d originally planned. Karen couldn’t look away as she played the last verse.

 

 _Yes, I’ve been brokenhearted_  
_Blue since the day we parted_  
_Why, why did I ever let you go_  
_Mamma Mia, now I really know_  
_My, my, I should have never let you go_

 

Karen had to sit back after she finished. The crowd was hushed, and she hoped it was from awe and not that it was a different speed from the rest of the band. Slipping the strap from her shoulder she threw a smile at the crowd. “We will be back in just a few minutes with more songs for you so please, please stick around. Thanks for letting me just feel with you guys.” She waved and stepped down off the stage.

Threading her way through the crowd, she found the stock still shadow at the back of the room. Karen had felt his eyes on her the entire way across the bar. Pushing her hair out of her face and lifting her chin, she planted herself next to him and smirked.

“Want to buy me a drink before I go back on stage?”


End file.
